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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939749">How to Save a Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/auxctor/pseuds/auxctor'>auxctor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead Poets Society (1989)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Charlie is the best bro, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, The poets are such good friends, Todd Anderson-centric, Whenever I write dps fanfic everyone cries a lot, anderperry, like self care?, once again Todd's just being very self-destructive, probably the only dps fic i'll ever write where Neil's dead, this fic is no different, uhhh everyone is in the closet because it's 1960, who is she? todd doesn't know her</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:54:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/auxctor/pseuds/auxctor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“He loved Neil so goddamn much.<br/>He loves Neil so goddamn much.<br/>But it wasn’t enough. Todd had never been enough.”</p><p>The summer after junior year, Todd struggles with grief from Neil’s suicide.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Todd Anderson &amp; Neil Perry, Todd Anderson/Neil Perry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>How to Save a Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey all!<br/>so this little fic is something i actually started a little bit before speak low but then kind of forgot existed. so! i finished it over the past week or so and thought i'd share. you may notice this is SLIGHTLY influenced by gale hansen’s tweet about Anderperry haha.<br/>the next Speak Low update will be coming asap, but i just wanted to take a quick break to finish this one.<br/>a HUGE thanks to my wonderful beta @aml13 for proofing this fic too and ALSO staying up until 4am with me to watch movies and plan a whole new fic. they are the BEST and I'm so thankful to have them as my beta and friend.<br/>finally! if while reading this angst-fest you want to bop to something, I created a playlist for this fic!<br/>you can find that link here:  https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1JA8coNnDXTeSpye5DybXe?si=xrUWKUerREe3wQUcRggagg<br/>much love,<br/>auxctor</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Neil,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I said I could take care of myself and I’m reminded every day that I’m able to do it; I’m able to do it but I haven’t in a long time. Ironically, not since you died.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The summer wasn’t beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd doesn’t know what he expected, really; summers had always been dreadful and this one was bound to be more bitter than the rest. The sun is scorching hot, making the pavement burn to the touch, but still, Todd continues down the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd can feel himself starting to feel sick from the heat. He isn’t sure how long he’s been walking and can’t exactly recall the last time that he ate. Jeffery will probably get on him about that again and when Meeks or Charlie write him another letter when they realize he still won’t answer the phone, they will definitely berate him about it. But Todd doesn’t care. Every week is the same these days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s six months into the new year-the next decade, actually- and things are supposed to be better. Todd had made the mistake of thinking that last year too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And look how that turned out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The road is a long walk but he needs to be away from his house; it’s gotten too much. Todd can feel the telling tightness in his chest, the buzzing of his heart. The way he gets at the worst of times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Todd leaves without knowing exactly where he’s going but this summer he’s always ended up in the same place. When he gets there, though, he just sits outside the gate. He would never go inside. Todd doesn’t know why here is the place he always ends up; this isn’t even the right graveyard; the actor was buried somewhere much closer to Welton.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about that makes him sick, but that’s most of what Todd thinks about now. Every night when Todd closes his eyes, he sees the funeral; it was a closed casket funeral. Todd never got to see the actor for one last time, but maybe that was for the best. Todd’s not sure he could have handled seeing him in death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because there’s no denying the truth anymore. Todd tried that at the beginning but it didn’t make anything hurt less and it didn’t bring him back. It didn’t make the truth of what happened any less brutal. The actor is dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd’s best friend is dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is that even true? He was different than that; he was his roommate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil Perry is dead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what to say, where to begin. There’s so much to tell you but I simultaneously have nothing to say. It’s a feeling I used to get all the time; I’ve always had a lot to say but not the courage to say it . But Neil Perry? You made me want to spill it all while also rendering me completely speechless. I will never stop being in awe of all these things you’ve made me feel from back in August to now, even after everything that’s happened.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So much has happened since Neil died that Todd is getting whiplash from it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie was expelled. They let Todd stay the rest of the year, but he wasn’t invited back for the next; Todd knew it was the standing on his desk “stunt” he had pulled on top of all the hot water they had all been in for the Dead Poet’s Society. Meeks, Knox, and Pitts have been allowed to stay, but Todd knows they might not go back. Cameron is probably going back, but none of them are in contact with him, so Todd can’t say for sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he could, Todd wouldn’t want to go back to that God-forsaken school. The place bled bitter memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd had spent the second semester drowning in those memories; retrospect tasted like guilt and ash and every night he had to sleep with his back to Neil’s side of the room or he would see the ghost of him there, all in his confident, passionate glory, and it made Todd sick to his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Presently, Todd pulls at the grass from where he sits against the wall next to the gate, and his mind continues to wander like it now does so often. His thoughts are always running down that same vein. Everything is touched by Neil, every thought tainted by Neil’s absence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another memory hits Todd like a bullet to the temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil had just come back from his second-ever practice and he was radiant. There was light pouring from his features and it made something in Todd’s chest grow like his heart was a sunflower turning its face to the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s going so well,” Neil had gloated, throwing himself onto his bed. “It’s different than anything else I’ve ever done, Todd. But it’s so good. And they keep telling me that I’m good and I just finally, finally have something that I can have— that can be mine— that makes me feel alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are good,” Todd said honestly and moved to sit next to Neil. He made sure to tell Neil how wonderful he was every time they practiced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you written anything recently?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd looked up at Neil; Todd didn’t like the sudden shift in conversation. Todd didn’t like conversations that revolved around him. (He still doesn’t.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Kind of. Yes— I guess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil had cracked a smile. “Yes, those are all possible answers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd elbowed him. “Yes, but it’s— lousy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Read it to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell no,” Todd said quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know— exactly why not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine. Can I read it myself then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd had let out a heavy breath. “Fine. But no reading it out loud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd went over to shift through his papers. There was a small mess of them on his desk: unfinished school work and poetry and quickly-jotted notes. Finally, he found the piece of paper he scribbled the poem down on during a stroke of inspiration; he took a moment to breathe before turning around to timidly hand the creased paper to Neil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as Neil’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration at the mess of Todd’s words. Todd self-consciously watched his face as he read, and settled back down next to him. Neils’ lips moved slightly with the words. After he’d finished he just sat there for a moment, looking at the page then finally looked up at Todd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Todd, it’s amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Todd tried to push Neil off the bed. Neil pushed him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd hasn’t written for a long time now. He tried back when the summer started, but every word that came out was Neil’s name; it did just about as much good as smearing blood on an empty page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd didn’t know what had happened to him; he wasn’t this bad the month before summer had started. He even wrote a poem or two. But it was like the school year had kept his sadness confined; now it was the summer and his parents were ignoring Todd again and the poets and classes weren’t there to distract him. How was his grief to do anything other than spill?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that there’s nothing I could have done to stop you. But I’m sorry I didn’t love you harder. I’m sorry for everything I’m not that I wish I was; I’m sorry for not being everything I should have been. You were always solid, always keeping me in place, and I should have been there for you. I wish I had known how you were struggling. I wish—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, there’s so much I wish for.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now Todd is starting to feel nauseous and his skin feels hot to the point that he’s sure he’s a bit burnt. He’s probably been sitting here for hours; he always does. Time moves at a different pace now; it’s like the world that he lived in previous to Neil’s death is completely gone and in this world, all concepts of time and joy and love are twisted and wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd finally finds the energy to pull himself to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walk back is hotter and even more miserable because now it’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> too long since he’s eaten, and by the time he gets home he’s surprised he hasn’t passed out. But once inside, after a glass of water, he still doesn’t eat much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know why. Food, water, existing; it all feels pointless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house is empty. His parents are working, Jeffery is probably with his girlfriend. As Todd makes his way back up his room, he realizes, despite the time that has passed, he hasn’t unpacked his things from Welton yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should get on that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Todd opens his suitcase, the memory that’s haunting him returns, and plays on like a short film that Todd can’t look away from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does anything make you feel alive like that? Poetry?” Neil had asked Todd that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd shrugged. The question felt too daunting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Com’ on Todd. What makes you feel alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Todd—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, okay?” Todd said. It was a quiet snap, Todd’s always were, but it made Neil back down for a moment before looking softly at Todd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a good poet,” Neil told him. It’s something Neil said a lot but it was softer with an intense sincerity he only used in the most important situations. “A brilliant one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd had never thought he would be an important situation. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked away in embarrassment. Todd knew exactly what made him feel alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, more specifically, </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd remembers how sure he was at that moment that it didn’t matter; it didn’t matter how he felt about Neil because nothing could ever happen. Because they didn’t live in a world where someone like Neil could love someone like Todd or vice versa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, that day Todd had been surprised by Neil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because, well, for me, acting isn’t the only thing that makes me feel alive,” Neil had said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd looked at him, half confusion, half hopeful. He opened his mouth and closed it again; he could already feel that his syllables were going to come out shaky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil just keeps looking at him in his important, knitted eyebrow Neil way. Todd knew he needed to say something. When his voice comes out, despite a precautionary breath he takes, his speech shivers and his question is quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s— What’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence; Todd watched Neil take a deep breath before swallowing heavily. Whatever it was clearly weighing on him in a way that was unpleasant and Todd wanted to take that heavy load off his back, no matter how painful. No matter how sharp the bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Neil just kept looking at him and Todd looked back, confused, and at a loss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Neil kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right there. On Neil’s bed. In their dorm room. At their religious school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think if we had met in any other time, at any other place, this might have gone better. But I can’t drown myself in what-ifs or I won’t be able to go anywhere ever again; every place would whisper your name and I can’t take that without needing you here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re gone and God, I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m lost without you. And it’s ridiculous because I’ve gone most of my life without you. But you changed everything. That fall was the first time I’ve ever been truly happy; you were this safe place I fit that I didn’t know existed, but you took that away the moment you picked up that gun. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil had almost pulled away during that first kiss; he must have noticed Todd’s paralyzed moment. But, before Neil could go anywhere — in a moment of both panic but also complete honesty because Todd couldn’t think well enough to be anxious about it— Todd twisted his hand in the front of Neil’s sweater and pulled him impossibly closer. And then he was kissing Neil Perry back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them had never told anyone about that first kiss; it was an unspoken agreement to not talk about that kiss or any of the ones that followed. They didn’t tell anybody about how they held hands and kissed knuckles and foreheads and slept in the same bed a few times. No one had to know about that one night, just days before the play, that things got a little hot and heavy between them and Todd had let Neil touch him in that way that no one had before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But nobody needed to know any of those things. Todd wouldn’t let himself think about it too much because then he’d get caught in the morality of it and he couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because no matter what he thought or what he worried about, he wanted Neil, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd had always been pretty sure he could just ignore the queer thing. Maybe never get married, maybe marry a nice woman and get a good job and they could have a perfectly engineered marriage. Loveless but a machine that would never quit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, after Neil?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, after Neil, there was no “ignoring it”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t ignore something that made him feel like that. Todd couldn’t ignore what actually loving and being loved felt like and the way it made every dark room in the house of his body light up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because sometimes when you have someone as infinite as Neil Perry, you just know. Todd knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was this day, a few weeks before Neil’s play, that they had talked about the future. They were sitting in their room and Neil had been muttering his lines under his breath, making sure he knew everyone backward and forwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd had been doing his homework but he was suddenly finding it very hard to concentrate as Neil had taken Todd’s free hand on his own. Todd was losing his mind silently over the sweet touch while Neil just continued reciting his lines. Suddenly Neil stopped and looked over at Todd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re coming, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To your performance?” Todd asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wouldn’t miss it for the world</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Todd wanted to say. “We all are,” Todd said instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know if this is a letter to be angry with you or an apology; both, I think. Most of all it’s a love letter. The kind I would have written and left on your desk and in your coat pockets and anywhere you could find them on the bad days.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I would have given you hundreds of love letters if you stayed and I’m sorry I can’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so fucking sorry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if we went to the same college?” Neil had asked, later that same study session. Neil tended to interrupt silences; Neil didn’t like the quiet the way Todd did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Todd looked up from his trig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if you and I went to the same college after we finish here? You’re planning on going, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd nodded. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, my father will probably force me to go to an Ivy League but Lord knows if I’ll get in. And if I get in, I’m sure you will: and we only have one more year here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Todd hadn’t known what Neil’s point was, what going to the same college had to do with anything. He didn’t like seeing Neil talk about college most of the time. A lot of times it just made Neil sad; he’d get this hollow look in his eyes that always scared Todd a bit. (Todd now knew why.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil’s voice got a bit quieter; still confident but completely unfiltered. Completely vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could keep being roommates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that followed was full of truth. Packed with the months of breathing in sync; at that moment, Todd thought Neil Perry might mean this all as truly as he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Todd nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that.” And then, because Neil was safety and Todd was feeling brave, he added, quietly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be your roommate for longer if you’d like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil looked at him and Todd had to look away. Neil was too bright to look at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Neil asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be your roommate for as long as you’ll have me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil didn’t hesitate with his response. “I’ve always liked New York.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Todd asked, slightly shaky. He was still reeling from the fact that Neil wanted him in college too. He wanted to room with Todd. Nobody else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“New York— I’ve always liked it. That would be a nice place to live; all sorts of opportunities. And they do have medical schools there,” Neil darkened a bit at the last words but Todd was still caught in the implication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean— </span>
  <em>
    <span>both of us</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you said, isn’t it?” Neil looked at Todd in a way that Todd will never forget; even on his dying day, Todd will remember this look. It might be the last thing he ever sees behind closed eyes before he gives himself up to the grave. A look of this complete, pure honesty; Todd was positive right then and there that Neil was one hundred percent honest when he said he loved Todd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Neil smiled his closed mouth, lopsided smile that he used when he had Todd cornered. “You said we could be roommates for as long as I’ll have you— how the hell could I want anything less than always?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd had felt it all so intensely that he thought he might cry. He loved Neil and Neil loved him and they both wanted this. Todd used to be so— hopeful. He loved Neil so goddamn much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> Neil so goddamn much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t enough. Todd had never been enough. Now the thing that made Todd Anderson feel alive is gone, and Todd feels dead in his own skin; he’s more of a ghost than Neil now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe if he had made Neil feel just a bit more alive, he would have stayed. Maybe if Todd has been enough—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You have torn me apart. But you are also the single best thing that has ever happened to me. You had faith in who I could be, faith in who I was at the bone when no one else did. Keating believes in me, yes, but you were the first person who ever saw me and called me potential. Called me a writer. Called me hope.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And you were the first person to love the one person, the one brain, the one blood pulse I thought was unloveable. And you loved him with everything in you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You loved me with everything in you, Neil Perry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Presently, Todd tries to shake away the memories as he pulls out books and clothes from his suitcase, but they keep coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, at the bottom of his suitcase; Todd’s desk set. Not the one that he’s gotten for his 17th birthday; he and Neil went to pick up the pieces after Todd had thrown it and it was completely fucked. He had laughed so hard; he felt so— free. Neil had made Todd feel free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, this was the one he’d gotten for his 16th, what he used for school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what he hated about it. It wasn’t really the desk set itself that he’d hated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is more what this desk set stands for that makes him hate it; his loathing is all in metaphor. Todd has a poets brain; a tortured thing that never stops ticking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers Neil telling him happy birthday as he sat on the ground, alone in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And suddenly, with that particular memory, Todd needs to get out. He needs to get rid of this pressure in his chest. He stares at the wall emptily, holding the desk set to his chest like it’s a life raft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd can almost see Neil. The way he stands. The way he smiles</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can see him during Poets meetings; Neil in the cave speaking passionate poetry, glasses low on his nose while he reads. Neil studying; eyebrows crushed together and tapping his pencil without noticing. And there’s Neil acting. All passion and histrionics and light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd pauses for a long time before getting up. He just stands in the place halfway between his bed and the door, holding the desk set so tightly it’s starting to hurt. The edge digs into his palms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there’s Neil, picking up the desk set and making the best of a bad situation. Todd remembers that night with the desk set so well. How unstoppable he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Todd shifts the set in his hands so that he’s just holding one leather edge with both of his hands and takes a few steps to stand in front of the open doorway to his bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers the days sitting at his desk, Neil sitting on Todd’s bed as Todd wrote and Neil did his Latin homework. He remembers turning back to his desk to do homework after he said good luck to Neil as Neil left to go get ready for his performance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Todd had known how limited their time together was, he would have watched Neil go when he had walked out of their dorm that day. He would have given him another proper kiss. Or he would have stopped him. He would have said, “Neil, I know how important this is to you but you should listen to your dad, we’ll get you out of there as soon as you graduate, okay?” Because Neil wouldn’t have done anything if the poets were there. If Todd was there, Neil would never have—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without thinking, Todd slams the desk piece against the doorframe, scratching the perfectly painted white trim. It makes a satisfying groan but it doesn’t break. He does it again and again and again and finally, with a wretched crack, the desk set splinters in half. After a moment, he lets the piece in his hand clatter to the floor with the rest of the wrecked desk set.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd wouldn't have ever been enough, would he? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd has hurt before, sure, but he never knew he was the type to be this angry. He never knew that he could have loud anger; he has never done </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>loudly before. He hadn’t before these past few weeks. The second semester, the pain came in late-night tears and chest pain and sadness and not being able to look at Neil’s bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, he’s angry. Just angry and so fucking numb; he feels like someone else completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks back past his bed in this numb dream-like state, back to where all the other desk set pieces are; pens and paper and hole punches. They’re sitting on his desk, the one at home in this stupid, too small yet too big bedroom, sitting in a nearly perfect line, next to a pile of papers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd realizes that he doesn’t remember what kissing Neil felt like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In one smooth motion, he pushes everything off his desk. The racket is enormous, pens scattering, papers flying, hole punch groaning. But he doesn’t stop there. Soon he’s overturned his bedside table and then he’s grabbing the few poetry books Keating gave him before he got fired and throws them, sending them skidding across the wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s still not enough to shut up his cruel mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hates Neil. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates</span>
  </em>
  <span> him for doing this, for leaving Todd here alone with this kind of pain to hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he also loves him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just stands there so empty and so wounded and so intensely in love. He doesn’t know what to do anymore; how can he stop this? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain, the regret, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I loved you and you loved me right back; I am still completely stunned to write those words.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But, with that to-the-core kind of hurt, I can’t explain the way it hurts now that you’re gone. I can’t explain all the emotions; I’m a poet, words are supposed to be my forte but there are no words to describe the way everything is pulling me apart, a beetle between the fingers of a cruel child. There is no way to describe burning time after time, no way to explain drowning to someone who’s never done it. No way for me to understand the sharpness of a bullet the way you do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emotional pain is like that. There are no words to explain any of the ways this has demolished me and yet I’m trying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh God, am I trying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Todd?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd whips around quickly. Jeffery is standing in Todd’s doorway. His eyes are wide as he takes in the trashed room and Todd in the middle of it all, teary and just as much of a wreck as his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd tries to wipe a few tears from his eyes as though that will make this whole scene less incriminating. “Oh, hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffery just continues to look at him and then to the mess that Todd’s created. He looks down at his feet and picks up a piece from Todd’s demolished desk set, then his eyes go back to Todd. Todd watches Jeffery’s lips form around what he can only assume is a question along the line of “what the ever-loving hell are you doing” but then he closes his mouth. He seems to reconsider and then asks, quietly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really miss him, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd freezes. Jeffery heard about Neil; everyone did, but he’d never talked to Todd about it. They always avoided the topic, and Jeffery would only say things like “Todd, you need to eat dinner” which Todd supposes is considerate, but there was always the caution Todd has had around his brother. It comes from years of Todd hiding in his shadow. A childhood of Jeffery not understanding and siding with their parents when Todd’s words caught in his throat and he couldn’t “just speak up” or “spit it out already”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—” Todd starts but then he loses it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Todd,” Jeffery said, moving carefully across the ruble from Todd’s explosion. “You can talk to me— I know we haven’t always gotten along. But I’m here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd’s about to say something, some sort of protest, then his brother pulls him into a hug, and he breaks like china. Suddenly he’s crying and a summer’s worth of grief is leaving him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeffery— I-I loved him,” Todd says, trembling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Todd says quietly. He isn’t thinking and he needs Jeffery to understand the way this stings. Todd’s needed to tell someone because the secret has been eating away at Todd more than he realized like a parasite or a maggot or something ugly even though his secret is something beautiful that shouldn’t have had to be kept in the dark. “I mean more than that; we— we were something more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffery pulls away, out of the hug to look at Todd with understanding eyes. “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd’s entire body goes rigid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well— I guessed,” Jeffery admits, looking slightly shy in a way that reminds Todd of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t— you aren’t disgusted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my brother,” Jeffery says as though that’s an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it is an answer. An answer that means more than the world to Todd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re both quiet for a long moment until Jeffery interrupts the silence. At first Todd thinks he’s going to bring up Todd’s sexuality, but he doesn’t. “Todd, when’s the last time you went out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd shrugs. “I went on a walk— today. Yesterday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s all blurring together, his mind is a kaleidoscope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. I mean like— with people. I picked up the phone the other day and it was your friend Knox. He said you haven’t called him back in weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know Knox had been calling too. Todd’s just been ignoring the calls; he’s home alone most of the time so it had been working pretty well. Well, until now. “I haven’t seen anyone since— since school ended.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Todd, it’s been months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd suddenly feels like a child being scolded. “I-I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Todd— ‘m not getting mad at you. I’m just saying; I think it would be good for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m scared to face them</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Todd wants to say. “Okay, okay. I-I-I’ll set something up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeffery nods and then proceeds to make Todd dinner, which Todd is grateful for. He isn’t trying to deprive himself but the truth is he just has no motivation to get food, to take care of himself. But Jeffery making him sit down at the table and eat whatever he’s made normally helps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s helpful to have someone there to convince him to do things like eat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next week goes by, and Todd really intends to listen to Jeffery and call the poets. He knows he really should at least talk to them or invite them over or something; they’re probably worried sick about Todd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t call them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saying you can take away the sour taste is different than actually going to find something to wash it away with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Less than two weeks later, Todd goes on one of his under-nourished walks in the summer hot sun. As always, by the time he gets home he’s dizzy and delirious. Which is why he thinks he’s imagining the sound of voices at first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Todd pauses. Actual voices are coming from the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It really won’t be that bad. And Todd and I will be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd follows the familiar voice that he can’t quite place in his faint state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t know,” someone else says. “Welton sucks but my parents are going to kill me if I don’t get into an Ivy League; public school isn’t going to help my case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie, Knox, Pitts, and Meeks are sitting at the kitchen table. Todd stands in the doorway, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. Meeks—?” Charlie’s saying. He has his back to Todd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, Knox is right. Public school isn’t going to help but let’s think about us for a moment— how much does an Ivy League matter to you, Knox? Not your parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knox shrugs. “I really don’t care. I don’t— I’m not even going to be a lawyer, but they sure as hell don’t know that yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. I just—” Meeks, who’s sitting across from Charlie, sees Todd in the doorway and falls quiet. Everyone turns to look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd is expecting just sad, pitiful eyes but he’s pleasantly surprised— Charlie is quick on his feet and immediately pulls him into a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ Todd— you need to learn how to pick up a goddamn phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd feels himself smile ever-so-slightly for the first time in a long time. “Sorry. I’m s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t apologize,” Pitts says and Todd pulls out of the hug with Charlie to look at them all. None of them look great, but they all certainly look better than Todd. All in summer t-shirts and shorts, with slight grief carried in bags under their eyes, but nothing worth being concerned over. Todd is sure he looks concerningly bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, as if Todd doesn’t already look like a mess enough Knox asks:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd starts to cry. Not a light cry either; the heaving, broken kind he had let out back right after Neil’s death. And there’s Todd, standing in the middle of his kitchen in tears with his four best friends watching. Todd feels gross and embarrassed and then Charlie immediately pulls him into another hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss him too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Todd pulls away, he looks at the poets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needs to tell them; he wants them to know. And if Jeffery, his brother, can take the news, he can trust the poets with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love him. We were— more, and I-I love him,” Todd says, but he’s starting to hyperventilate a bit and he’s still in tears. Because Todd didn't just used to love Neil like he told Jeffery; he still loves Neil with every bone in his body, every beat of his pulse, but it is such a cruel thing to be so hopelessly in love with someone you can never speak sweet words to ever again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So no, Neil. I will never be over your death. I will never forget. I will never forgive your father. I will probably never completely forgive you, if I’m honest, for leaving me here alone. And without a roommate.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I will always love you. For the rest of my life. And even if/when I meet a nice man and settle down, I will still love you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A part of me will always be yours. And that may sound stupid or cliche or like overdramatic bullshit, but you will always have a small portion of me; there will always be a scar where I carved out a place for you. I buried it with you; that part of me will never be mine again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they can get Todd back to a somewhat steadied breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie is the one who asks. “When you say you love him— you mean— something more as in— together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anxiety fills Todd. He always assumed if he got the courage to tell the poets they would be just fine with it but now he isn’t sure. Oh God, please, he can’t lose the poets now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. We were— something. I-I don’t know what people call it, exactly but— something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a long silence before Charlie looks over at Knox. “I told you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knox looks defensive. “I didn’t argue the point, I just said I wasn’t sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys knew too?” Todd asks, smiling this small sad smile. This would be purely wonderful that they accept that their Neil loves a boy, but Neil’s dead so it’s tinged with a horrible kind of regret. “How did everyone—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys weren’t very good at hiding it,” Meeks admits quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you guys— are fine with it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Todd—” Charlie says. “You made him happy. And we’d— you’re our friend, no matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie doesn’t go in any further but it doesn’t matter; it’s exactly what Todd needed to know. They were just two boys in love. And the love part is the only thing that really matters to them, and Todd knows that finally, it can be the only thing that matters to him too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you guys know I-I was— doing badly?” Todd asks quietly, changing the topic, as all the poets sit down back at the table. Todd sits in between Charlie and Pitts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well—” Pitts says. “All four of us have tried calling and you haven’t picked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knox adds on. “And then Jeffrey called me on Friday and said we should probably come here to see you because you’re struggling. We’re worried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie nods more seriously than Todd has ever seen him from where he’s sitting on one side of Todd. “We needed to at least see you. We just don’t want anything to happen; we care about you, Todd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a tense silence that follows. Todd is about to ask exactly what Jeffery told them when Knox breaks it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to take care of yourself,” Knox says quietly. “We can’t lose anyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd feels something in himself shake. The grief is such an overwhelming thing. “I just feel—- everything. I-I’m feeling it all and it’s too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it is. This is all way too much but— that’s why you have us. We’re here for you,” Meeks asks. He’s tapping his fingers slightly on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just—” Todd starts. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be okay, Todd. You just have to try and take care of yourself,” Knox says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pitts answers first. “Maybe just— start small. Do little things; it doesn’t have to be anything monumental.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd is quiet for a moment, considering. Every tiny task feels huge which makes starting small feel nearly impossible. “I guess— I’ve been meaning to clean my room. Is that taking care of myself, you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meeks nods. “Yeah. Yeah, for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie stands up and claps his hands. “Great. Where’s your room? Let’s get started.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todd smiles a weak smile. “I meant once you guys leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, we’re helping,” Knox stands up too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys really don’t have to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie sends Todd a look. “You can’t escape our help Todd; you’re stuck with us now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Todd really smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that evening after Todd’s room is clean, all wreckage of his freak-out gone, and the poets leave, Todd lets his mind wander. For the first time, it wanders in a direction Todd knows is good to follow. He makes himself dinner. He reads one of the books of poetry Keating gave him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes it easy and yet:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes care of himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even if I hate myself, I will love myself too because you’re no longer here to do it for me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Todd will take care of himself; he has to. Even if he isn't okay, he needs to work towards it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the Poets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Neil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that thought in mind, Todd sits down and starts to write.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I will take care of myself. Just like I said I could.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much for reading! please remember to leave kudos and comments &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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